


Even When We're Ghosts

by LaLainaJ



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Basically I'm Assuming No Damon No Problems, Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Getting ALLLL The Warnings In, Happy Ending, I Also Find I'm Forgetting A LOT of Canon and I'm Lazier About Looking It Up, If People Can Get Paid To Ignore Canon I Should Be Able To Do It For Fun Right?, Klaus is a Vampire but Caroline Isn't But She's Still Into It So It Might Be Weird, Mirror Sex, Not Damon Friendly, Oral Sex, Right., Smut, Soulmates, Temporary Character Death, it's been 84 years, obviously, playing fast and loose with canon, sorrynotsorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22009753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: He'd just been planning to collect his doppelganger, hadn't anticipated such strong resistance. Now, trapped in his wolf form, until he meets his soulmate, Klaus seeks alternative solutions.He doesn't believe in soulmates.Until Caroline Forbes crosses his path.Caroline thinks she's hallucinating (note to self, don't accept moonshine from old ladies) until her life starts getting... weird.The Mikaelsons aren't great at subtle.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 494
Collections: Klaroline Gift Exchange — New Year's Day





	Even When We're Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avana/gifts).



> Hello Avana! I hope you enjoy this! As always, gifts never seem to turn out the way I intend but I had fun. It is thematically appropriate for this exchange which I have never managed before and am kind of proud of. 
> 
> Happy New Year to the very best of fandoms!

**_2001_ **

“Oh, Niklaus. What have you done?”

Elijah sounds disappointed. Klaus’ head wants to hang but he won’t allow it to. He has _some_ pride.

No, he stands as tall as he’s currently able – taller than any _other_ wolf put he only reaches to Elijah’s chest and allows his brother to look his fill. Is there a hint of amusement there? Klaus thinks so. It’s galling but if Elijah expresses no outward sign of his glee, he’ll let the offense slide.

Though, to be fair, he’s not in any position to refuse help, even if it’s ungraciously given.

Klaus has spent the last ten minutes herding Elijah into the deepest, most sound dampening part of the forest. A choice he regrets, in hindsight. A bite won’t kill another original, but it will make the next few days exceedingly unpleasant.

He and Elijah haven’t been on good terms in years and he’s in dire need of assistance.

Klaus had smelled a vampire; thought he’d have a bit of fun. He’s been trapped for weeks, has been so very _bored_. Already he’s been reduced to chasing small game like an _actual_ animal. His humiliation had only been tempered by the knowledge that no one would ever, ever know.

He hadn’t bothered to attempt to identify the interloper’s scent, hadn’t figured the failsafe he’d put in place for this sort of occasion – he’d always thought it unlikely he’d be totally incapacitated and he’s most displeased to have been wrong – would work so quickly.

Whether it’s simple luck or a matter of Elijah having his own spies in place, Klaus can’t say he cares.

He’d been stalking his prey, forcing them in the direction he’d wanted. A clearing, one isolated enough that no hiker is likely to stumble upon it and become alarmed to find it soaked in blood and littered in gore.

The blasted Bennett witch’s curse is thorough, won’t allow Klaus to kill anything that’s not already dead. He’s played the wording over and over in his head, having little else to do. Klaus _believes_ vampires will be fair game but, in such a sleepy town, he’d figured it unlikely one would wander into the woods he’s now confined to.

Confined, until such a time as he finds his _soulmate,_ and is accepted into their _heart_.

What utter nonsense.

Elijah unbuttons his jacket, his suit impressively crisp considering he’s recently been sprinting, and crouches so he’s at Klaus eyelevel. “Let me guess, you tried to kill someone you shouldn’t have?”

Klaus manages a rumble of sound – not quite a growl – and hopes Elijah can understand it’s a denial. He hadn’t planned to _kill_ the doppelganger. She’s far more useful to him alive. She’ll need to grow a bit before he can even use her. He’d planned for her to be the safest child on the planet, for several well paid and carefully compelled associates to ensure not a hint of danger would cross her path.

For some reason, Sheila Bennett hadn’t believed him.

It had been so long since he’d dealt with one of her line, he’d been fooled by her age, her apparent frailness. Hadn’t thought to call in a witch or a coven of his own to assist. He’d _assumed_ he could bargain. These days very few witches hate him enough to refuse to name a price.

As a last resort, if terms could not be met, how hard could one elderly woman be to dispose of?

He’s mulled over his series of shameful mistakes endlessly. He won’t be making them again.

“ _Not_ kill,” Elijah says. “Interesting.”

Klaus jerks his head down, then up, resists the urge to vocalize his frustration. If he’s forced to wait for Elijah to guess, to direct him with nods and shakes, explanations will take ages.

Elijah doesn’t seem to sense the urgency of the situation.

“I have the coffins. They’re safe. Awake.”

Klaus stiffens, feels the fur along his spine begin to rise, his tail slashing angrily. It’s the oddest sensation. He’s always enjoyed the freedom of his wolf form, the way his instincts are sharp and unmuddied. He’s never had to bother with strategy or angles, any situation that required human cunning.

He regrets he hadn’t thought to practice but even his paranoia has limits.

“Finn, Bekah and Kol only, of course,” Elijah continues, his tone growing irritatingly superior. “I’m well aware that our mother is not to be trusted.”

Mikael is dead but Esther is powerful enough to bring him back. He has no faith that his mother has gotten over her regrets about creating vampires. It’s best she remains dormant. Thankfully, for once, he and Elijah are in complete agreement.

“Finn slipped away the third night, Rebekah’s doing her very best to diminish our fortune. Both with her purchases and her destructive outbursts.” Elijah sounds exhausted, one of his hands coming up to press at his temples, as if soothing away the headache he can’t possibly have.

If Klaus could laugh, he would.

“Kol’s needed a crash course in technology, just how far cameras have come, how they’re everywhere. I had to clean up a bit of a mess, that’s why it took me so long to get here. The house outside Boston is little more than ashes now, my apologies. I know you were fond of that one.”

Klaus makes another noise, higher pitched this time.

“Of course I removed everything of value.” Now Elijah’s genuinely offended and Klaus can’t have that. Not when he’s Klaus’ best hope of getting out of this bloody town and back to his usual self.

He has competent minions, of course. They’re just not particularly good at taking initiative. Perhaps he’ll have to reconsider his recruiting practices.

Klaus huffs out a breath, hopes it’s an adequate apology. He takes a few steps closer, nudges Elijah’s shoulder roughly. He doesn’t manage to upset his brother’s balance but that hadn’t been the point. Klaus stills when Elijah’s hand lands on his head, sits down. Glances up expectantly, hoping Elijah’s streak of perceptiveness continues.

Judging by the shock he’s not trying to hide, Elijah’s gotten the hint.

“Are you certain?” he asks, and Klaus makes no attempt to move away. He’s _not_ entirely certain. Ordinarily, he would rather peel off his own skin than let someone rummage around inside his own head.

He’d need thumbs for such a task and, in the interest in getting his back, he’s willing to endure something he normally wouldn’t. Besides, it can’t hurt to show a bit of trust. Elijah knows now that their siblings had always been safe, if under lock and key. The revelation won’t erase all that’s happened, however.

A glimpse into his thought process might.

Elijah’s hand twitches, gripping now, not just resting. It’s difficult not to fight, Klaus’ muscles stiffen and tremble when staying still becomes difficult. He can _feel_ Elijah though it’s only pressure, not pain. Klaus gets brief flashes of memory, thoughts, knows he’s not the one pulling them forth. Elijah approaches the task with his usual ruthless efficiency, rifling, finding what he needs, thankfully not digging deeper then he needs to.

Klaus’ sense of time is limited as a wolf. He can tell guess at the hour by the position of the sun and the moon. When Elijah pulls back, extricating himself from Klaus’ mind, a fair bit has passed judging by how little light now penetrates the trees above them.

Elijah’s head bows, the heel of his hand now rubbing to forehead. This time when he speaks, it’s all exasperation, “Oh, Niklaus. What _have_ you done?”

**_2011_ **

“...I’ve been an awful good girl, Santa – oooowwwch!” Caroline stumbles off the path, having tripped over a rock or a branch or some other _dumb_ piece of nature. She scrapes her shoulder against a tree, reaches out to rub it absently.

Her skin is chilled and she’s going to have to remember to retrieve her cardigan from Mrs. Archambault’s place. It’s the only one in the right shade of purple to match this dress. At least it’s a freakishly warm December.

Caroline glances behind her, wondering if it might be smarter to go back now. Her cell reception sucks but Mrs. Archambault _must_ have a landline.

She dismisses the idea quickly. Mystic Falls is annoyingly tiny, and she’s been walking _forever_. Surely her mom’s house, her mom’s _heated_ house, containing comfy pyjamas and the fixings for hot chocolate can’t be far?

It’s solid logic.

Caroline nods determinedly, flips her hair behind her shoulders, “Oookay, where did that path go?”

She pushes away the tree, humming a little trying to remember where she’d been in the song. “Ba ba ba bum, all the fun I’ve miiissssed, all the fellas that I haven’t kiiisssed…” she breaks off into giggles swaying and having to catch herself once more. “Okay, that’s technically a lie. But none of the boys I’ve kissed have been very _good_ at it, so…” She laughs harder, her steps slowing.

She jumps when she hears the first crack, whirls in the sound’s direction.

Curses her father for being so adept at guilt trips and making her promise to go visit a family friend he’d been sooo fond of as a child. If she gets eaten by a bear he’s going to be sorry.

“Crap, what kind of bears are even _in_ Virginia?”

A second cracking sound distracts her, then another. More, until the sounds bleed together, grow softer. Like someone’s rolling around in bubble wrap. Caroline shakes her head, wondering if it’s her imagination. Ringing in your ears was a thing, right? She’s been drunk before, obviously. She makes a mean Jell-O shot, but she’s never been drunk alone, in the middle of a forest. A really spooky forest, now that she thinks about it.

It’s not the full moon but still. She’s in werewolf territory so that’s concerning.

Caroline shakes herself, tries to focus. The noises are different than the sound of rustling leaves, of sticks breaking under foot. Probably not a serial killer. They’re not close, or moving in her direction, so she’s not about to be bear food.

Optimism for the win.

Caroline takes a deep breath, tells herself it’s _nothing_. Just the usual outdoor sounds. Probably.

“Just keep walking,” she sing songs, “It’s all in your head. You’re going to remember this tomorrow and feel _real_ stupid. Note to self, don’t let the good sheriff know you’re hung over.”

No need to _invite_ extra parental supervision. She’s spending her month-long Christmas break in Mystic Falls, the longest stretch of time she’s spent with her mother since her parent’s got divorced. Her mom’s been cool, hasn’t tried to pile on a ton of rules or institute a curfew or anything. Still, her mother would totally frown on the whole underage drinking thing.

Caroline hadn’t _meant_ to stay out so late. She’d had a plan. She’d packaged up a pile of the sugar cookies she’d baked in a pretty, festive tin. She’d dressed nicely, if a little more conservatively than she usually would. She’s heard a derogatory whisper or two about her dad and Steven, rude insinuations about how there must be something wrong with her because of how she’d been raised.

She’d graduated with the 4th highest GPA in her class, had juggled an impressive amount of extracurriculars and she’d been accepted into all her top schools. Had totally just finished kicking her first semester of college’s ass.

The bigots can suck it.

She’d bought a gift for Mrs. Archambault, a cute little elf ornament she’d picked up at the church craft fair because she’d been raised with _manners_.

Caroline had _thought_ she’d be spending the afternoon with a kindly old lady. One who had a standing weekly appointment at the single salon in town to get her hair set, who grew prize rosebushes and owned a tea set where all the pieces matched. Doilies on the couch, a cat or six. Basically, a grandma right out of central casting.

Mrs. Archambault had _not_ been what Caroline had expected. She’s _so much_ cooler.

She makes her own moonshine. She writes freaking erotic novels. Several of which are now stuffed in Caroline’s purse – she’s totally going to have to hide those. Liz has been super good about respecting Caroline’s space (mostly because she’s never home but Caroline’s doing her best not to be hurt by that). She’d suffered through excruciating chats about the birds and the bees with her father. Somehow, she imagines _the talk_ with mother would be even more awkward.

The moonshine had been _disgusting_ , only palatable once some kind of blackberry syrup and a healthy splash of lemon had been added. Caroline hadn’t noticed the time passing, not when the Mrs. Archambault’s stories were so juicy. Caroline now knows all the best gossip, has been warned off of marrying a man who’s too interested in how she spends her money (not relevant for another ten to fifteen years but still useful) and that she should avoid the woods on full moons.

Caroline had already known that last part. Her dad’s a Forbes. People might assume he’d left things that go bump in the night behind when he’d left town but they’re wrong. Caroline had been sent out of state when an enterprising vampire her father had been tracking in Atlanta had thought to use her.

Luckily, she never takes off her vervain necklace _or_ leaves home without the lightweight .32 and wooden bullets she’d gotten for her 13th birthday.

In hindsight, Caroline _should_ have kept the incident to herself. She’d handled it just fine. Her mistake had been mentioning that she’d need more bullets at the dinner table, then asking Steven to pass the baked potatoes. She’d been met with incredulous silence. And no potatoes.

Yelling had ensued. An urgent phone call made. Caroline’s Christmas break plans ruined.

Oh well. There’s always next year.

“I should have brought a flashlight.” Caroline gripes. She begins humming again, then her last sentence hits her. “Oh! Duh!” Caroline stops, lets her bag slide from her shoulder, sticking her hand inside and digging deep. “Where did I put my… a-ha!”

The shape of her phone is familiar, mercifully easy to find. She brings it up to her face, and it takes a few tries to get the flashlight turned on. Her battery is even 79% full and she can’t help bouncing a bit because things have taken a turn for the better.

Then the light illuminates her surroundings. And she’s not alone.

Caroline screams, reaches into her bag and throws one of Mrs. Archambault’s books. The guy, who is _not wearing clothes_ , dodges easily. Shows her right for trying to use a slim volume as a bludgeon, she needs something with more heft.

Caroline turns to run, to get a little distance so she can pull out a more useful weapon, but her feet won’t cooperate, slipping out of her flats and throwing her off balance.

“Damn it,” she hisses, letting her bag fall and wrap around her list, preparing to swing.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” the _naked_ weirdo in the forest calls and like Caroline’s going to believe _that_. Where did he even _come_ from?

She throws another book, and this time her aim’s better, narrowly missing his head. “My mother is the sheriff of this town. She’s expecting me home in the next ten minutes so you better _back_ off! Go put on some pants, creep-o!”

Is he laughing at her? _Ugh_. She puts all the command she can muster into her next statement, “Stay right where you are!”

* * *

Klaus had heard the singing first.

It’s not _bad_ , per se. The voice is quite lovely, if a little slurred. His unknowing serenader has obviously been imbibing heavily because she often manages to forget words, substituting nonsense syllables. He considers staying where he is – he exists nocturnally these days. Hunting is better late at night and he’s less likely to run into a townsperson. At the moment, its barely full dark.

Terrifying the residents of Mystic Falls is occasionally fun. He’s only killed two, paid the price both times. He’d been forced to shift from wolf to human, and back again, over and over, without pause or even a chance to catch his breath, for hours, possibly days. Time gets rather lost when your bones are shattering and shifting.

It’s grown colder, must be close to Christmas judging by the singer’s song choices, Klaus decides he might as well investigate. It’s not as if he has a packed schedule.

He gets a general impression of her physical appearance – blonde hair, long legs – and to hear enough to be amused, perhaps a bit charmed, before he starts to feel… off. Klaus feels warm, and his heart beginning to pound alarmingly. He lays down just before his ulna cracks, manages to drag himself into a tangle of brush.

Klaus clenches his teeth, does his best to stay silent. He’s at his weakest between forms.

Perhaps the drunken girl isn’t what she seems.

Elijah has been very careful not to let Klaus’ predicament be known, he ensures whispers of fabricated movements and actions circulate, keeps their enemies chasing false leads. They’re both pragmatic, however, aware that the longer Klaus’ curse stays in place, the more likely is that it becomes

He has enemies who keep tabs, who would leap at the smallest opportunity. Klaus has always eliminated the more intelligent quickly, let the sloppy and simple think they can gain the upped hand.

It's _possible_ one of the latter is capable of surpassing expectations.

When he turns fully, then remains in his human form, he’s paralyzed for a long moment. He waits for the inevitable, to be forced back into his wolf again. When he stays human Klaus slowly sits up, his mind whirling.

There are only been two possible explanations.

First, Elijah has _finally_ managed to find a solution. And while that would be ideal, if he’s performed such a miracle, wouldn’t he have come? Sent someone with the news, at the very least?

The second option is less appealing, but Klaus can’t discount it. He gets to his feet, brushes himself off, and sets out in the direction of the clumsy footsteps and muttering.

He’s likely not in a fit state to meet his soulmate but, if she is _that_ , he needs to be able to find her again.

He’s about to call out when light catches his eyes and he turns away, unused to the artificial glare. She shrieks, impressively loudly, nearly tips over in her haste to get away. Klaus opens his eyes just in time to see a book flying at his face.

He sidesteps it easily, allows the second come a bit closer.

There’s nothing good he can say here, he’s quite sure. Klaus settles on a truth, “I’m not going to hurt you!”

She doesn’t believe him, not that he can blame her. He’s said similar things to people who ended up dead shortly after.

Klaus holds up his hands, keeps his distance. Can’t help smiling as she spits more orders. This might be the most absurd situation he’s ever been a part of. Quite a feat, considering his age.

Not moving is difficult – Klaus hasn’t been bipedal for longer than a few seconds in years. He longs to stretch, to run, to settle into his body again. It’s probably best that he doesn’t. He suspects his transformation will be temporary, that he’ll revert once the girl leaves the forest.

That staying in his human form won’t be an option until she “accepts him into her heart.”

He doubts that will be a simple task, not when it had been meant to be impossible. He’s quite certain that Sheila Bennett had planned for him to be trapped until someone could devise a way to kill him or the earth ceased to be habitable. He’s sure her spell comes with a long list of conditions.

He knows Elijah’s been researching the soulmate element of his curse. Klaus has never really paid much attention, thinking it useless. Now, he wishes he had.

In his defense, the idea that there was _one_ person, out of the billions on the planet, the billions more who had left it in his thousand years, that was _meant_ for him? Both overly romantic nonsense _and_ statistically impossible. Klaus would have bet just about anything that his only option was having the curse removed by Sheila Bennett or superseded by another witch.

Ordinarily, being wrong would bother him. Klaus has more pressing concerns.

“I haven’t moved, love.” He can see her perfectly well, even in the dimness, the way her eyes narrow as she looks between them, judging the truth of his claim. The light she’s holding is lowered and Klaus is hoping she hasn’t been able to see much of his face.

The plans he’s beginning to formulate will go much more smoothly if that’s the case.

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, edging away, her features tense and suspicious.

“My apologies. I would be happy to put on pants. _If_ I had some.” Next time Elijah visits, Klaus will have to ask him to do some shopping.

That gives her pause, her eyes going wide, “What? Why would you…” she shakes herself, her nose wrinkling in disgust, “You know what? I’m betting I don’t want to know.”

She watches him, taking another step back, “I am leaving. If you follow me, you’ll regret it.”

“Have a good evening!” Klaus calls as she retreats, following her lead and backing away.

“Note to self, _pass_ on the moonshine next time,” he hears her mutter.

Klaus’ muscles start to twitch the farther she walks away. Confirming that the change _hadn’t_ been a fluke of magic.

The girl triggered it. Pity he hadn’t managed to learn her name.

**_2012_ **

Freshman year, the roommate lottery had been relatively kind to Caroline. She hadn’t had anything in common with the Chem major she’d been forced to cohabitate with but Angela had been tidy, hadn’t helped herself to Caroline’s things, and halfway through the first semester she’d fallen hard and fast for a guy who’d lived off campus allowing Caroline a blessed amount of alone time.

She’s hoping her luck holds.

The door to her assigned room is ajar and Caroline pushes it open, saying a quick prayer (she’s never been religious, but it can’t hurt, right?). She doesn’t even notice the other person in the room at first, her mouth falling open because she’s walked into the nicest dorm room in the history of the world.

Hardwood floors. Big, arched windows. It’s furnished with two desks, dressers, bookcases and somehow there still manages to be more than a paltry few square inches of floorspace. She could take up yoga or something in that space.

The building is brand new; construction having started last January. Caroline had been pleased to be assigned to it because new probably meant reliable plumbing and no carpets with weird smells.

Clearly, she’d been thinking too small.

“That’s… that’s a double bed!” she exclaims dropping her purse and pointing at it, wondering if she’s hallucinating.

“Bit small, but they’re quite nice,” a voice chimes in, a girl popping into Caroline’s eyeline, sitting down on said bed and bouncing a bit. She smiles, “You must be Caroline.” She’s blonde too, pretty with great eyebrows, wearing a cropped leather jacket that Caroline totally covets. And her accent makes her sound straight out of Downton Abbey.

At least she doesn’t seem to be holding Caroline’s weird outburst about beds against her, so not the best first impression.

Caroline spins around, taking in the full three-sixty view. “Yeah, sorry for ignoring you just now. This is just about a bajillion times nicer than my last room. I feel like if I blink I’ll be back in one that looks like a prison.”

“Shall I pinch you?” her new roommate asks.

Caroline finally stops, shakes her head ruefully, “No, I’m good. You’re Rebekah, right?”

“Right,” Rebekah stands, straightening her top. “D’you need a hand with your things?”

Caroline blinks, cautiously pleased. “That would be great. My car’s downstairs and it’s stuffed. My dad’s dropping off the rest tomorrow.”

Rebekah digs her phone out of her pocket, tapping away at the screen. “My brother’s room is just downstairs. We’ll make him do all the heavy lifting but please ignore anything he says to you. Kol’s a bit… well, you’ll see. Apologies in advance.”

“It’s nice you’ll have family around,” Caroline says, attempting diplomacy. Her stepsister had only spent every other weekend with Steven. They’d gotten along well enough, but they’d never been close.

Rebekah snorts, tossing her hair back, “Nice isn’t the adjective I’d choose. However, it’s only for a few more years. I’m hoping we’ll see far less of each other someday.”

That’s… a little weird but considering they’ve only known each other for three minutes Caroline decides not to pry. Rebekah opens the door, stepping out into the hallway and Caroline follows. “When did you move here?”

“We lived in Boston briefly, then New Orleans. My older brother has some business here in Georgia so Kol and I took the opportunity to transfer.”

“So, two brothers?”

The sigh Rebekah lets out contains a wealth of suffering, making her seem far older for a second. “Oh, how I wish. Try four. We don’t see Finn, the oldest, much. Nik’s a bit of a recluse. He’s an artist and ever so tortured about it, is currently holed up Virginia.”

“No way! My mom lives in Virginia. A teeny little town though, you’ve probably never heard of it. Mystic…”

“Falls?” Rebekah finishes, stopping and whirling to look at Caroline, her eyes wide with surprise.

Caroline smiles, automatic, but she studies Rebekah more closely. Notes a silver chain around her neck, that whatever hangs at the end of the necklace is tucked under her shirt.

Hmm.

“My, my isn’t it a small world?” Rebekah chirps. She loops her arms through Caroline’s when they reach the stairs. “Perhaps I’ll have to tag along with you on a trip home one weekend. It’s been ages since I’ve seen Nik and he’s always been my favorite.”

Caroline hums but she’s not about to say yes to something like that just yet. Her father’s instilled in her a healthy belief that there’s no such thing as coincidences.

Plus, she’s seen a lot of movies. Even if she’s just being paranoid and Rebekah’s _not_ a vampire, she might still be dangerous. Sometimes the seemingly perfect roommate turns out to be a psycho stalker. Caroline’s going to be cautious, just in case Rebekah’s planning on stealing her life or wearing her face.

She’ll have to call her mom later, ask about the brother. _Just_ to be safe.

* * *

“Here wolf-y wolf-y wolf-y!”

The voice is instantly recognizable though Klaus has not heard it in more than a century. Kol’s particular brand of obnoxiousness is hard to forget. He’s struck by two equally strong urges. The first demands he run in Kol’s direction, as fast as he can. He’s somehow grown sentimental in his isolation, finds that he’s missed his brother more than he’d realized.

Or, if he’s being honest, more than he’d decided he was allowed to considering Kol’s absence had been entirely his fault.

Klaus is also sorely tempted to hide. He’s loathes appearing weak, and he can’t stand that he’ll have no choice but to allow Kol to speak freely, that he won’t even be able to properly respond.

Nor is he looking forward to Kol’s humor. His younger brother will _never_ let go of the fact that Klaus has spent more than a decade under a curse.

“I come bearing gifts brother dear! All the things Elijah instructed me to bring you. Plus a few… improvisations.”

That could mean many things. Most of them unfortunate.

“ _And_ I’ve become quite well acquainted with your tasty little soulmate. She’s a delight, by the way. I’m quite baffled by your luck.”

That has Klaus lumbering to his feet, loping off in the direction of Kol’s voice. He’d been skeptical of Elijah’s insistence that both Kol and Rebekah be installed at Caroline’s school. Elijah had humored him (and oh how it galls that he has such little control, stuck as he is within the boundaries of Mystic Falls) and listed his reasoning.

Some of it offensive. His siblings have an appalling lack of faith in his ability to attract a woman. He’d done it _plenty_ over the years, hadn’t he?

“Attraction,” Elijah had pointed out, haughty and _so_ superior, “is eminently different than _connection_ , Niklaus.”

Klaus had growled, snapped his teeth _just_ shy of the hem of Elijah’s suit jacket in warning, and made the most dignified retreat a four-legged creature could manage.

He assumes Kol’s been sent as a punishment, a reminder to mind his manners.

Kol’s sprawled on the forest floor when Klaus first spots him, digging through an enormous bag. Klaus hangs back, to study his brother, unsure of his reception.

Kol retrieves a bottle of wine first, then a handful of brightly colored packages that crinkle loudly. “I can never quite decide what my favorite part of the twenty - first century is.” Kol says, ripping open a plastic package with his teeth. Pink crumbs flutter from his mouth, coconut Klaus would guess, considering the smell. He speaks around a mouthful of cake, likely to be purposefully irritating. “The snack foods are up there. So many of them and they’re so convenient. And cheap!”

He looks the same, but of course he would. Only the hair and the clothing are different, Kol remains unable to sit still, his face mobile and expressive. He tosses a package at Klaus’ feet. When he glances down and sees blood spattering the brown paper. “Buffalo, just as Elijah instructed. The butcher had the most _fascinating_ tattoos.”

Kol pops the cork of the wine nimbly, drinks from the bottle. He stares at Klaus expectantly, “I _knew_ that you being a wolf meant you wouldn’t be talking but still, it’s _so_ odd. Sort of nice though.

Klaus edges a little closer in response, picking up the meal Kol had brought and bringing it closer.

He’d had grand plans for family dinners, once upon a time. Once Mikael was dead and his family reunited. Only Mikael’s been gone for decades and Klaus had found excuse after excuse to leave the daggers in Kol and Bekah. He’d blamed Elijah’s lack of trust in him, justified it because there were still threats out there and adjusting to the new world would make his siblings vulnerable.

Klaus has always had a gift for arranging circumstances for his own comfort.

“I thought about killing her,” Kol says, perfectly casual, life he’s making the most mundane small talk. “So that you’d suffer and go mad, all the while trapped like this. You probably deserve that, don’t you think?”

Kol’s looking for a reaction, prodding, testing. Violence, anger, will be met with more of the same. Klaus focuses on his task, carefully tearing through the paper. Takes a neat bite, chews delicately.

“But then Elijah would spend the rest of our existence giving me that grave ‘Kol, you have disappointed me’ face and Bekah would torture me by bursting into tears and wailing like a banshee at every available opportunity and really, in the end, I’d probably suffer more than you.”

The flood of relief is staggering.

Klaus doesn’t take the words for forgiveness; he knows that may never come. What Kol’s offering him is a ceasefire.

There will be battles later, when Klaus is more capable of fighting back.

“I brought you clothes,” Kol says and Klaus relaxes with the change in subject. “Elijah said he’s left you some things but, knowing his taste, it’s probably a boring suit. Can’t have you trying to woo Caroline in something like that. It’ll only emphasize that you’re _far_ too old for her.”

It’s a statement meant to needle but Klaus is unruffled. Truthfully, he doesn’t understand why whatever magic Shelia Bennett had called forth had acted to inflict him on one so young. Caroline Forbes must have displeased someone or something bigger than her.

“She’s a smart one, you know. Has been spiking my drinks with vervain for weeks. Bekah’s too and our darling sister is far less gracious than I when she has to choke one down.”

Klaus finds it an easy image to conjure. Rebekah, smiling sickly sweet and challenging, sipping delicately because her pride will not allow her to be bested. Caroline bright and cheerful and wary, cataloguing every twitch and grimace to try to calm her suspicions.

“You should see the planner she bought me. Was appalled that I didn’t have a study schedule so went right ahead and made one for me. I haven’t had the heart to tell her I rarely attend classes. Just the one where we watch movies and then argue about them. There are _so_ many movies, Niklaus.”

Kol doesn’t hide his bitterness. Klaus wonders if he could make himself apologize, even if he were able to speak.

“Caroline’s a big fan though I find her taste questionable. First, animation is for children and her ranking of the Disney princesses is completely nonsensical. Ariel was dumb enough to sell her voice to an evil mollusc, _obviously_ that should mean she’s relegated to the lower tiers.”

Kol keeps chattering and his ability to carry on a lively, one-sided, conversation is both impressive and not at all surprising. He soaks up the information greedily, the bits of knowledge he’s being gifted.

He’s not sure if he’s ever been this jealous of Kol before. Oh, there’s been pangs of it before. Envy of how carefree Kol could be, even when they were flitting from place to place, struggling to stay one step ahead of Mikael. And he’d resented how, as humans, Kol was rarely punished for his behaviour – far more outrageous than Klaus’ had ever been.

This is different, sharp and painful, burrowing deeper.

As far as prisons go, Klaus’ knows his could be far more tortuous. He has space to roam, the freedom to move as he pleases. Visitors, even. He’s become used to his circumstances, loathsome as they are. Has, in his opinion, exhibited an admirable (and some might say uncharacteristic) amount of patience.

It’s frays with each new story but Klaus can’t bring himself to leave, his thirst to _know_ Caroline, even in this paltry way, too great.

A soulmate, he’d believed, was impossible, ridiculous. Would be a burden, even. He’d never imagined that _he’d_ be the one longing.

Sheila Bennett’s dead now.

Wherever she is, she’s laughing at Klaus, the fear her curse and a pretty slip of a girl have instilled in him.

He’ll never underestimate a witch again.

* * *

“So, serious question,” Caroline says, propping her elbow on the table and leaning forward.

Elijah Mikaelson’s eyebrow twitches when he glances at it though his face remains placid and friendly. He doesn’t comment on the breach of decorum even though they’re in a restaurant that doesn’t even have prices on the menu. It does have crystal chandeliers, snowy white linens, and way too many forks to choose from.

Speaking of, Caroline picks up one of the tinier ones. She’s stuffed full of lobster; hadn’t thought she’d be able to finish her dessert. But it’s really freaking good so she’s going to try.

“You may feel free to ask me anything you like, Miss Forbes. I’m pleased Rebekah and Kol have made such a sensible friend.”

Yeah, she can see that. Rebekah had excused herself before dessert, insisting she’d take Elijah’s town car back to school and then send it back, claiming she _really_ had to study.

Never mind the fact that, to date, she’s only cracked _one_ of her textbooks. Caroline checks the spines regularly.

Kol’s currently at the bar, making sex eyes at a bartender who’s somehow rocking a man bun so Caroline’s betting she’ll be making the trip home alone.

‘Sensible’ isn’t an adjective she’d apply to either and she imagines Elijah has his hands full if he’s taken it upon himself to attempt to wrangle them.

Caroline pops another bite of cake in her mouth, chewing slowly to give herself the chance to consider her next words. If Elijah’s planning on murdering her, they might just make him speed up his timetable.

Only, she’s about 99.9% certain none of the Mikaelsons are plotting to kill her. Call her crazy, and her parents certainly would, but she believes there’s another angle here. Both Kol and Rebekah have had plenty of opportunity to make her a snack but neither has attempted to even _compel_ her.

Such an attempt wouldn’t work, thanks to endless evenings of practicing her father’s techniques, but that little skill is hush hush for good reason.

Caroline runs her tongue over her teeth, hoping to clear any embarrassing chocolate smears away. She takes a deep breath and takes the risk. “Is this like a Twilight thing? Are you some kind of vampire coven? You and Kol look enough alike that I could buy that you’re actually related but I don’t see the resemblance with Bekah.”

If Elijah’s surprised by the question, he doesn’t show it. He wipes at the corner of his mouth, folds his napkin neatly over his plate. “If family photos had existed in our time you’d be even more surprised. Our parents were both fairer than Kol and I.”

She respects the lack of denial. Few things piss Caroline off more than being treated like an idiot.

“Have you mentioned your acquaintance with us to your father?”

She’s been tempted. If she’s somehow the Bella Swan in this situation the smart thing would have been to toss out a lifeline. Caroline speaks with her father every week or so, drives the hour to his place once a month for dinner and free laundry. Mentioning that she’s made friends with vampires has been on the tip of her tongue dozens of times.

He would have freaked out, like he had when he’d bundled her off to Mystic Falls, even though she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She loves her parents but they’re both ‘my way or the highway’ types, and so freaking pigheaded. Caroline can hold her own but, in the interest of keeping things harmonious, she’d decided not to bother starting a fight.

“Do you think I should have?” Caroline counters, swirling another forkful of cake through her whipped cream.

“He’d be familiar with our name, _if_ his reputation isn’t exaggerated.”

Well. She might be in trouble then.

“So, you’re famous vampires,” Caroline says, the words coming out slowly as she ponders if that changes her calculations. Vampires are never famous for good deeds, for rescuing puppies from burning buildings or selflessly donating blood to the injured.

No, it’s always horrific murder and creative body disposal.

“Very,” Elijah answers but there’s no smugness in it. He’s not bragging, simply stating a fact.

Weirdly, Caroline finds that comforting. If he _was_ planning on killing her, surely there’d be a monologue of all his worst actions? Or maybe she’s just been watching too many movies. Totally Kol and Rebekah’s fault but their complete inability to grasp even the most obvious pop culture references is just too pathetic for Caroline to stand.

It’s another reason why no alarm bells had been ringing. If they were plotting to kill her, wouldn’t they have done a better job at blending in?

“Then why are you here?”

“This is one of the best restaurants in the country.”

Caroline sighs, shakes her head. “And you were doing so well,” she mutters.

He smiles, just the briefest quirk of his lips. “I don’t know that it’s my story to tell. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t think you’ll believe it from me.”

“Ugh, that’s patronizing. Gross.”

“I have been called far worse.”

Caroline doesn’t doubt it. Elijah’s intimidatingly well put together, flawless and shiny and with an air of all knowingness. She considers various strategies, discards them quickly. He’s confessed to being older than she’d even realized, she won’t win any games she tries to play.

Luckily, Caroline’s always been good at blunt. “What _can_ you tell me?”

Elijah takes a sip of his champagne and Caroline could swear he’s regarding her with approval. “Nearly a year ago now you were in Mystic Falls, visiting your mother. You met a man in the forest. He… startled you.”

Caroline’s so _not_ skilled at hiding her emotions. Her mouth falls open and she stares at across the table dumbly. “How did you… I was… How could you possibly know that? I thought Mrs. Archambault must have tossed a bad ear of corn into that batch and I was hallucinating.”

“The… gentleman you came across is our brother. Niklaus.”

The loner artist Rebekah had mentioned. Her mother hadn’t known of him but then she has little patience for town gossip, unless it happens to relate to crime. “My mom’s going to rage when she finds out there’s a vampire in her town.”

“Technically, Niklaus is not a vampire. Now he can’t harm a hair on a human’s head. He’s under a curse.”

Oh god this just gets weirder and weirder.

“Though there _is_ another vampire in town. I believe your mother is even acquainted with him. Stefan Salvatore?”

It takes Caroline a minute to place the name. She’s met him once or twice, cute but super dour, always within an arm’s length of Elena Gilbert. “Does my mother know he’s a vampire? Does Elena?” Elena had been one of her besties in elementary school. Sweet, always willing to share her snacks, but also quick to tattle to a teacher if rule breaking threatened. She’s been friendly enough when Caroline’s visited over the years. Caroline can’t claim to know her well but Elena Gilbert hooking up with a blood sucking monster seems wildly out of character.

“I believe so. He’s very devoted. He’s not currently drinking from humans so, perhaps, your mother has decided to overlook her oaths to the council.”

Caroline finds that hard to believe. Her mother isn’t one to take a promise lightly.

“I think I need to see if my mom minds having me for Christmas.” She says it quietly, more to herself than to Elijah but of course he hears. As they have clearly established, he’s a vampire.

He doesn’t smile but Caroline detects a new thread of pleasure in his tone. “We’re planning on going as well. Construction on a home was recently completed, the decorator should be done next week. Do feel free to stop by.”

“Hasn’t your other brother been there for awhile? Where has he been living?”

A sharp laugh sounds from just behind her and Caroline jumps, grimaces when a hand pats her head affectionately. “See, Elijah? Sharper than she looks, hmm?”

She’s tempted to stab her tiny fork into whatever part of Kol she can reach. It’ll heal and he deserves it. She rises, Kol slips to the side easily avoiding her hastily pushed back chair. “I’m leaving. I need to…” she brings her hand up flaps it in Elijah’s general direction, “…process.”

Caroline grabs her purse and her jacket, avoids eye contact with Elijah, shoots Kol a glare. “Will I see you at school? Or are you over pretending to go?”

“You’ll see me,” Kol says. “I know you’d miss me terribly.”

Caroline scoffs, brushes past him roughly. Will never admit that she totally would, damn it.

“Let me know if you want to carpool back to Mystic Falls!” Kol calls cheerfully, even though she’s clearly storming away.

Ugh, what a douche. He _knows_ she likes to get the last word.

* * *

Every shop attendant, server, and bartender in Mystic Falls has been compelled to call a phone number when Caroline Forbes walks into their establishment.

When Klaus had heard the phone in the house ring twice, he’d checked the number, then grabbed the bag he’d had packed for just such an occasion. He’d been racing across the grounds in under a minute.

Klaus hasn’t quite adjusted to living indoors but he admits there are perks to a roof and walls. Elijah’s going to have a fit when he sees the coating of fur on the sofa in the library.

His siblings are set to arrive late this evening and Klaus hopes the house survives.

Making his way through town, to where Caroline will hopefully still be, without being seen (an unusually large wolf with a backpack clamped in his teeth would draw far too much attention) is tricky but Klaus manages. There’s an alley next to The Grille and Klaus finds the shadows of it when his spine begins to prickle. The change to his human form is a relief, and he dresses quickly, a peculiar mix of nerves and anticipation making his body pleasurably jittery. He runs a hand over his face, feels a light dusting of stubble. Wishes he’d thought to pack a mirror.

“Don’t worry, Nik. You’re still very pretty.”

Klaus spins at the taunt, is nearly bowled over when Rebekah crashes into him. She hugs him fiercely for a moment and Klaus returns the embrace, words stuck in his throat. Rebekah stiffens before he can manage to speak, shoving Klaus away, hard enough that a few of the bricks behind him crumble upon impact. “I’ve missed you, but I _hate_ you,” she spits out, crossing her arms and glaring petulantly.

“That seems to be how these family reunions go,” Klaus jokes, attempting to brush himself off. Rebekah looks well, like she’s adapted to the times easily enough. She could blend in with any of the high school girls who occasionally flit into the woods for private time with their teenage infatuations.

He assumes the outfit is far more costly, however.

Rebekah is unamused, “Your _soulmate_ is inside. She’s incredibly annoying but that’s fitting considering you’re… you.”

Klaus smiles at that, sees that Rebekah’s tempted to return it. She’s conflicted, his sister, her emotions cycling rapidly. Rebekah, according to Kol, does not hate Caroline nearly as much as she says she does. Kol had sighed and claimed that, if not for Rebekah’s tragic inability to make friends or share the spotlight, they’d probably have already grown close.

Klaus is reasonably confident they may still manage it. They’ve nothing but time, after all.

He approaches Rebekah cautiously, keeping an eye on her hands. He’d only brought one shirt; he’d hate for it to get bloody. “I’ve missed you as well,” he tells her, reaching out to clasp her hands in his. “Tell me, how are you enjoying playing human?”

She’d often claimed to long to be mortal again, to live a human life. Klaus had always countered that she’d be terrible at it, would grow bored with the limitations.

Rebekah snorts derisively, “Oh please, I managed that for a few days, at most. Caroline’s irritatingly suspicious so I saw no point in taxing myself.” She squeezes his hand, her nails digging in. “Don’t say I told you so.”

“Me? I would never,” Klaus teases. He leans in, presses a kiss to her forehead. She accepts the gesture, assuring him that theirs is a rift that he can mend. He smooths his shirt down. “Wish me luck?”

There’s something vindictive in the curl of Rebekah’s lips, “I won’t. But you’re going to need it.”

* * *

It’s been a weird couple of days.

Caroline’s wondering which bartender she can con into serving her a drink, she’d worn the skimpiest black top she’d packed, hoping it would help her cause. She’s got her eye on the one she doesn’t recognize and is crossing her fingers he doesn’t know who her mom is.

Since arriving in in Mystic Falls, she’s gotten approximately twelve minutes of sleep. She’s been dreaming but she can’t remember anything that happens while she’s asleep, only that she shoots up out of bed and feels an urgent need to leave her house and go find… something. It’s not entirely clear what (or possibly who) she’s supposed to search out but last night she’d found herself almost to the front door before she managed shake herself awake.

She’d run into Bonnie Bennett at the grocery shop earlier and, though they’ve always been friendly, Bonnie had only spent a couple of minutes chatting before she’d begun studying Caroline intensely, her answers growing short as she’d obviously looked for an escape route. They’d parted awkwardly and Caroline’s felt uneasy since. She keeps telling herself it’s silly, that omens and bad vibes aren’t a thing. Still, she finds she can’t stop worrying about it.

Matt Donovan, the bartender she does recognize, is at the far end of the bar and Caroline hopes he stays there. With her current luck he’d probably spit in her drink.

She’s also extra jumpy, expecting the mysterious vampire brother to pop up. Caroline’s not entirely sure what he looks like. Between the darkness and her wild gesturing with her phone (and the whole naked thing which had drawn most of her attention) she hadn’t gotten a clear look at his face last year. She scrutinizes every guy she doesn’t recognize who appears to be under the age of thirty, has received a whole bunch of flirty eyebrows in return.

Unluckily for them, Caroline doesn’t have time for a random.

She’s got a whole list of questions for this Niklaus Mikaelson. She doesn’t expect many answers. Just a whole bunch more aggravating and cryptic statements that will lead to more confusion, but she’s got to try.

Someone brushes against her arm and Caroline shivers even though The Grille is plenty warm. “Do you mind if I sit, sweetheart?” a man murmurs.

Instantly, Caroline _knows_. The voice, the accent, both are familiar. She twists to face him, her knees slamming into his thigh in her haste. He doesn’t shift away and she doesn’t apologize. “You!” she hisses.

She can only see his profile but the deep dimple that appears in one cheek leads her to believe he’s amused. “Me,” he agrees. “It’s lovely to see you again, Caroline.”

“Niklaus. You look different when you’re clothed.”

“Ouch, love, you’ll hurt my feelings. And, for the record, most people call me Klaus.”

“Klaus,” she repeats, testing it out.

 _Klaus_ catches Matt Donovan’s attention, pulls out a hundred-dollar bill. Matt rushes over eagerly when he spots it even though he’s been giving Caroline a wide berth. “I’ll have a glass of the best bourbon you serve. And for the lady?” Klaus faces her, brows lifted in question and _of course_ he’s super hot. Caroline had expected it – she’s acquainted with three members of his gene pool and they’re all attractive – but it still _bothers_ her.

She takes too long to answer and Matt begins to stutter something about how she’s underage. Caroline groans, “ _Barely_ , Matt. Just give me a double shot of vodka in soda and we’ll pretend it’s Sprite. I promise not to tell my mommy on you.”

Another large bill appears and Matt collects his obscene tip without further protest, turning away to pull glasses.

“Neat trick,” Caroline gripes.

Klaus doesn’t seem to mind her needling and he hasn’t turned away, his eyes tracing her features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. His gaze never dips below her chin. She’d be impressed (because her boobs look fantastic, thank you very much) but he’s more than old enough to have some self-control.

That’s her first question. “How old are you anyway?”

“Physically? Twenty-six.”

And here come the deflections. “You _know_ I didn’t mean physically. What year were you born in?”

“Ten thirty-seven.”

Caroline sucks in a shocked breath, waiting for a ‘just kidding!’ or a laugh. Neither come and he seems content to wait for her to speak.

He’ll be waiting awhile.

When Matt sets their drinks down, she snatches both. “I think I need these more than you do.”

Matt makes a noise of protest, quickly swallowed when Caroline glares at him. He puts his hands up and backs away. “Impressive,” Klaus murmurs.

Caroline’s in no state to take a compliment gracefully. “You’re… ugh, I can’t even do the math right now.” Not that a precise age means much when you’re talking more than a _thousand_ years. She drinks the bourbon in a few swallows, tries to soothe the burning in her throat with a long sip of her vodka soda.

“What is your deal?” she blurts out.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Why answer?” Rebekah and Kol certainly hadn’t. They’d dodged and joked and distracted. Caroline has no idea why Klaus isn’t following their lead.

“I’ve decided that lying to you will be counter productive.”

“Counter productive. To _what_? What’s the goal here?”

“About a decade ago I came to Mystic Falls. I’ll spare you the details of my initial business for now, but a very powerful witch happened to object to it. She wove a curse and I’ve been under it ever since, unable to leave this town.”

Caroline finds herself wincing, “Yeah, I can see how being stuck here would suck.”

“It’s not merely a matter of being trapped though I agree this town’s charms are… minimal.”

“How diplomatic.”

“My father was a werewolf. And, though it was difficult to achieve, I am as well. For the last eleven years I’ve been stuck in this town and in that form save for this evening and the few moments I spent in your company the last time we met.”

She’d just taken another sip of her drink and she finds it hard to swallow. Sheer stubbornness is the only reason she manages, coughing quietly once she’s done.

She hates to keep abusing _Twilight_ references but she’s totally Bella freaking Swan. Minus the tragic wardrobe, of course. “So, you’re cursed to live as a wolf. All the time. Except when…”

“In your presence, yes.” Yeah, that’s the gist Caroline had picked up and having it explicitly stated is _not_ helping. The logical next question is why. Or possibly how. Caroline presses her lips together, spins her now empty glass between her hands, eyes focused on the bar top.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” she admits.

She feels Klaus shift next to her. He’s not touching her but she’s hyper aware of him, of how close he is, the heat radiating from his skin. She closes her eyes because she wants to look at him but that seems like a terrible idea when she has no idea what she’s feeling or thinking.

She’s had crushes, boyfriends, flings. Secretly, she’s always kind of lamented the fact that she’s always the one putting in the work in those situations. She flirts, she offers her number, she texts first. She’d told herself that there’s nothing wrong with knowing what she wants, with going after it.

She’s always thought it would be nice to be wanted first, to not have to convince someone that she’s worth their time.

This isn’t _quite_ what she’d had in mind.

“Would you like another round?” he asks, his voice gentle. She risks a quick glance at him, finds he’s watching her with concern.

The offer is tempting. She kind of wants another _six_ rounds so she can turn off her brain. “If I get drunk tonight, and I forget this conversation. Will we have it again?”

“I can’t see how it can be avoided at this point.”

Well. At least he’s committed to the honesty thing. “In that case,” Caroline leans forward, pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. Klaus’ hand hovers near her back, over bare skin because the top she’s wearing dips low.

He doesn’t touch her, and she finds she’s disappointed.

She shakes off that revelation (though she’ll _be_ returning to it, probably later tonight because, once again, sleep won’t be coming easy) and taps her passcode into her phone. “I have questions,” she tells him. “A whole list of them.”

Looking directly at him is dangerous – the dimples, the blue eyes, the way he _focuses_ – and distracting. Her phone gives her a way to avoid doing it.

Plus, information is power, right? That’s what all her journalism profs seem to be drilling.

Klaus doesn’t balk at the idea of being interrogated, doesn’t even seem irritated. “Ask away, sweetheart,” he says, shifting to give her his full attention.

“You might regret that,” Caroline warns, scrolling through her list. It’s long and she’s already mentally adding to it.

“I doubt it.”

Caroline takes that as a challenge.

* * *

Elijah signs, lowering the newspaper he’s been reading. “Niklaus. Must you?” Klaus can feel his eyes on him, heavy with disapproval, as he makes another circuit about the room.

They’ve taken to corrugating in common spaces, though the house is large, and they have plenty of options if they’d desired solitude. Often conversation revolves around Klaus’ predicament, his siblings tossing around strategies. He’s often the target of their jokes but he finds he doesn’t mind as much as he once would have.

They’re here, trying to help him. He hadn’t had to threaten or bribe or manipulate. It’s more than he thought he’d ever be gifted.

“Yeah, it’s right unsettling to have a giant wolf prowling through the house,” Kol chimes in.

Klaus growls a warning, considers attempting to tip over the sofa Kol’s lounging on when he _laughs_.

“It’s been two days,” Kol says, unhelpfully because Klaus is painfully aware of the time that’s passed.

“Hardly enough time for the girl to come to terms with things,” Elijah agrees. Also unhelpfully. “She’s very young.”

His mood sours quickly, as it’s prone to. Had Klaus _really_ wanted all his siblings with him?

Rebekah’s out, at least. She’s gotten it in her head that she wants to throw a New Year’s Eve party, has ventured out to town to see what sort of supplies can be found (Klaus expects her to return and demand Elijah drive her to a larger town). Kol’s not allowed to drive (his attempts so far have been disastrous) and feeding from humans within town limits is also off the table. He’ll likely tag along.

Then Klaus will have some peace.

The front door slams open, Rebekah’s heels clacking loudly on the marble entrance tile.

She’s back even earlier than Klaus had anticipated. The shops of Mystic Falls must be in an even sadder state then he’d figured.

Rebekah’s flushed when she bursts into the living room, her hair wild and snow dusted. “Did you run?” Kol asks. “Why?”

“Stefan!” Rebekah gasps, “Stefan’s _here_.”

That doesn’t mean anything to Kol, and Elijah only knows the vaguest details of the time he and Rebekah had spent in Chicago. Klaus cannot _believe_ he didn’t think about this little wrinkle. For him it’s been nearly a century since he’d considered Stefan Salvatore family and he’s been aware of The Ripper’s presence, how he’s changed, since he’d arrived in Mystic Falls three years ago.

For Rebekah, only a paltry decade has passed since she fancied herself in love with the man. She has no idea that he won’t remember her, that he’s now a self-loathing shell of who he’d been, one who feeds on rabbits and foxes, who’s content to spend his existence guarding a human girl’s mortality.

“Stefan Salvatore? Elena Gilbert’s…” Elijah gropes for a word, clearly unwilling to use the term common in this century.

Kol sits up, appearing interested. He’s always had a flawless radar for potentially explosive situations. “Stefan Salvatore, why is that familiar?”

“We were acquainted,” Rebekah says, oddly prim. “In Chicago, in the 1920s. He and I…”

Kol talks over Rebekah, tossing a pillow in her direction. Rebekah slaps it away, into a lamp that teeters but manages to survive. “No, that’s not it. When have I ever cared about your string of sad paramours? Oh! _Now_ I remember, The Ripper of Monterey! Never met the bloke but he sounded awfully fun.”

Rebekah’s temper is simmering, “Stefan is…”

“I _did_ meet his brother once. Pretty, but a bore.”

Another interruption. Klaus anticipates someone’s neck snaps before the day is over.

Stefan’s brother is dead now but Klaus doubts anyone currently in the room, anyone other than Stefan really, would care. His remains in the forest, several miles due north. Klaus had buried them deeply after Damon had wandered across his path. He’s reeked of bourbon, had been muttering about Katherine Pierce and so Klaus had taken the opportunity to test his theory about the parameters of Sheila Bennett’s curse.

Killing vampires, as he’d suspected, hadn’t triggered anything unpleasant.

Rebekah stands, moving so Kol’s behind her. “When I went to speak to Stefan he acted like I was a stranger.” Kol makes a face behind her back, slouching back into the sofa. Klaus is surprised that living in close proximity, without any mediators, has improved their ability to solve conflicts without bloodshed.

He’d have bet on the opposite.

“He was with the doppelganger, and it must have been a surprise to see me.” Rebekah flops into an armchair, her lips twisted in displeasure. “He was _wrapped_ around your her. I might dislike this one the most.”

“Whenever I’ve spoken to Elena she’s been charming,” Elijah says and three sets of eyes swivel in his direction. Klaus is alarmed – he does _not_ need Elijah’s weakness for the doppelgangers to kick in, not when his freedom is closer than ever, when making hybrids is attainable. Kol’s amused, Bekah disgusted.

Elijah straightens his tie, far more thoroughly than necessary, and offers no further comment. He even _hides_ behind the newspaper.

“I invited Stefan to the party,” Bekah says. “Kol, I might need you to distract the _oh so charming_ Elena. Since Elijah _obviously_ can’t be trusted to do it.”

“Sorry sister-darling. I’ve never seen the appeal. I met a fascinating little witch in town, I hope to have my hands full.”

 _That_ sets off a fresh round of bickering.

Klaus considers following Elijah’s lead but decides hiding under the dining room table would be too much of an affront to his dignity.

* * *

“This is insane, you are insane,” Caroline whispers, and she’s not even referring to the fact that she’s talking to herself. _That’s_ the least of her current issues. “March your butt back to the house and go back to bed!”

Unfortunately, her body isn’t listening to the _very_ sensible lecture coming from Caroline’s mouth. She doesn’t even know where she’s going but she’s knows who she’s looking for.

Hopefully, Klaus now has secret stashes of clothes for occasions such as this.

He’d been very naked in the very vivid dreams she’s now having. The ones that she can now remember the details of, the sounds and sensations lingering. Distracting Caroline when she’s trying to bake cookies or decorate or wrap presents.

 _Just_ because her subconscious is down to rub up against him that doesn’t mean that she’s ready to do it.

A package had showed up, Caroline’s name clearly written across it, on the porch the morning after she’d shut down The Grille with Klaus. It had contained a three-inch binder, painstakingly detailed notes about The Bennetts, the wording of Klaus’ curse, all the research Elijah has compiled over the years. She’d poured over it all, done her best to make sense of the info dump.

The word soulmate had appeared, the concept Caroline’s been afraid to name. It’s been ringing through her head ever since.

It’s ridiculous. Not possible _or_ desirable.

She’s only twenty years old and her parent’s will flip if she starts dating a vampire.

Yet, here she is, bundled up and trekking through the woods to meet the vampire she’s _totally_ going to date.

She’s not surprised when Klaus appears, slipping out between two trees and into her path. He’s clothed and his eyes light up when he sees Caroline and an answering warmth bubbles up in her. She pinches her lips together to keep from grinning like an idiot.

God, she’s in _trouble_.

Caroline hadn’t stopped to figure out what she wants to say to Klaus, and she panics for a moment. Then she notices his hair is ruffled, that his shirt’s on inside out, and it hits her that he must have _hurried_ to meet her, that whatever pull that had yanked her out of bed, it’s something Klaus feels just as strongly.

Has she ever had that kind of power? Caroline doesn’t think so.

Her strides don’t falter, not even when Klaus pauses. She walks towards him, then into him, lifting her hands to thread through his disheveled curls. “I need to…” try something, she’d been going to say, but his mouth is there, plush and warm and fitting _so_ perfectly against hers.

It’s just a brush and then it’s a kiss, Caroline sighing with pleasure at the first tentative sweep of his tongue. Once sure of his welcome Klaus grows demanding, tasting her greedily, his hands tugging her closer. They heat up quickly.

His stubble scrapes her face pleasantly and Klaus knows how to tease and tempt, until Caroline’s mind is whirling and she’s pressing as close as she can get.

She grabs at his shirt when her hand wants to go under it, moans when his mouth finds her jaw, shivers at his heavy breaths against her throat. He nudges her head to the side, his mouth sliding down to her shoulder, teeth sinking in lightly when her body jolts against his.

Her voice is quiet when she manages to speak, breathless and wondering. “That isn’t what I came out here to do.”

She’s about to tell him that she doesn’t regret _doing_ it – how can she when she feels like she’s floating, just from a _kiss_ – when Klaus puts distance between them. He looks pained about it, at least, small comfort when Caroline now feels so cold.

“I should not have allowed that,” he says, stiff and formal.

Caroline makes a derisive noise. “ _Allowed_? Wrong term, buddy. I wanted to kiss you, I did it, you seemed to enjoy it just fine. Don’t make it weird.” Her bluster leaves her in a rush, a pang of nerves attacking. “Wait. You _did_ enjoy it, right?”

He’s a thousand years old. Maybe _she’s_ a bad kisser.

Klaus is quick to squash her doubts and the heat he’s regarding her with, the tension in his frame, leaves her confident in his honesty. “I enjoyed myself thoroughly, love. But it’s been nearly a week and I haven’t heard a word from you.”

Okay, he’s got a point there. Hot make out sessions don’t typically follow radio silence. “I didn’t know I could call you. Since you typically don’t have opposable thumbs, I figured you wouldn’t have a phone.”

It’s a weak excuse and he knows it. “The house is equipped with phones, and several other amenities, that I can operate in my other form. I have no idea why I didn’t insist upon building something sooner, truth be told. Though Elijah tells me the permits were difficult to obtain.”

Caroline gestures between them, “How far away do I have to be before you turn back?”

Klaus appears thoughtful, his head tipping back like he’s calculating. “Twenty feet? Perhaps a bit more. We can test it, if you’d like.”

Caroline shakes her head immediately. “No, I’m good with a guesstimate. I remember the sounds.” She shudders, connecting the cracks she’d heard that first night to what she knows now. “Your poor bones.”

He smiles at her warmly, takes a step towards her and offers his arm, the gesture smooth and straight out of a period film. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve endured worse. Would you like to see the house? I believe Elijah’s in bed and Kol and Rebekah are out. Are you hungry? You didn’t eat anything earlier.”

“I could eat.” Caroline lays her hand in the crook of his elbow, “I skipped dinner and Kol’s got great taste in snacks.”

“So he says.” It doesn’t sound like as if Klaus agrees.

“What’s your favorite food?” Caroline asks impulsively. Mundane things like that, the usual getting to know you questions, hadn’t been on her list before. She finds that she’s curious. She knows the broad strokes of Klaus’ very long life and there’s several subjects she’ll need to dig deeper into before they can really be anything. Hard ones, the dark stuff.

A little lightness now, while they wander through the snow, seems like a great beginning.

* * *

“Tell me about the first person you killed,” Caroline says.

It takes all his considerable self control not to tense. They’re in his room, Caroline’s idea. She hadn’t wanted to deal with Kol or Rebekah should they come home and Klaus hadn’t had a single objection. He’d lit a fire and sat next to her on the very comfortable sofa, leaving a respectable distance between them. Caroline had drifted over as they’d chatted – she’s never travelled but she wants to, she likes to read but rarely finds the time, clutter makes her anxious and she’s allergic to cats.

He’d felt every bit of space disappear, it had killed him not to coax or tempt. He knows how she tastes now, the scent of her skin when she wants. He aches to memorize it, to kiss her and touch her until she’s pliant and dazed and his name falls from her lips because she _needs_ him.

That will come. He has time.

Caroline had been the one to lift his arm around her, to curl up and into him with a pleased little hum. He’d shifted them until he was stretched out along the length of the couch, Caroline tucked against the back and draped half on top of him.

Klaus can’t remember ever being more comfortable.

He’d listened to her breathing slow, his fingertips tracing idle patterns over her denim covered hip. He’d thought she’d fallen asleep.

Caroline tugs at one of the buttons at his throat, a nervous gesture, he thinks. As if she’s worried she’s overstepped.

If Klaus could avoid this conversation, he would. He risks her fleeing, for all the careful steps forward Caroline’s made towards him to be walked back. If it was in his power to prevent such an outcome he would but, if his curse to be broken, if he’s to be free again, he must answer. If he wants to have her, he cannot lie.

Caroline can’t accept him if she doesn’t know him.

“I don’t remember,” he tells her. “Whether it was a man, or a woman, their name. My father stabbed me, through the heart, Rebekah too. I was dead, and then I wasn’t, and I didn’t understand. And then my throat began to burn, and my teeth ached, and I went outside, to the well for some water. The people, our neighbors. They smelled incredible, I could hear the blood, just under their skin. And I wanted it.”

She absorbs his words and he’s heartened by the fact that she seems content to stay where she is.

“Would you go back, if you could?”

That, at least, is an easy question. “No.”

He wants to tell her that his human life had been small, that he would have lived and died without ever leaving the land he’d been born in, that he would have been miserable, because his father’s power and spite would have ensured Klaus would never be comfortable let alone happy. That he might have killed someone, because the world was a more brutal place, and then he’d have been banished from his home and his family for being a werewolf, a quirk of genetics that he had not chosen or known about.

Being a vampire has allowed him to see the world, again and again, and that he discovers something new every time. Art changes and it’s fascinating, music too. Food gets better and better. Humans live and they die and most never really know what they’ve missed.

He’d dying to offer to _show_ her what immortality means.

“Can I stay here?” Caroline asks, drowsy now.

“Of course.”

Someday, he’ll offer. When she’s ready to say yes.

* * *

Caroline’s wishing she’d paid more attention to the house’s layout when she stumbles into the kitchen and finds it occupied. Rebekah’s at the counter, her usual morning array of chopped fruits in front of her.

For a girl who’s new to the 21st century Rebekah sure does love her smoothies. She makes a damn good one too.

Caroline considers whirling and leaving without a word. Cowardly, yes, but it’s early, she’s wearing yesterday’s clothes. It’s the best night’s sleep she’s had in possibly ever, so she has no regrets. Things with Klaus had been 99% PG, but she’d still spent the night wrapped around him and she does _not_ want to discuss that with his sister.

Who may or may not also be her friend, which introduces another wrinkle. Caroline’s not entirely sure how much Rebekah has been faking.

If she’d been confident in her ability to find an exit, she might have done it but fleeing meant risking getting even more lost. Running into Kol (who would make walk of shame jokes and all manner of filthy innuendos) or Elijah (who would have silently judged without _seeming_ like he was judging) would have been worse.

Rebekah shoves a few handfuls of fruit into a blender, followed with a glug of coconut milk and then tosses an expectant glare over her shoulder. “The polite thing to do would be to stay for breakfast,” she says, pointed and decidedly snippy. She then stabs at the button on the blender and Caroline figures that means she won’t be taking no for an answer.

Seeing no other option Caroline gingerly climbs on to a stool. She sips the smoothie when it’s set in front of her, muttering a thanks. Rebekah remains standing, hands planted on the counter, staring at Caroline with an intensity that’s unnerving. Caroline sticks it out for as long as she can, meeting Rebekah’s eyes steadily, but she’s the one to cave.

Once the smoothie’s gone, with no other distractions readily available, Caroline slouches and sighs, “Alright, hit me. Say whatever you’re dying to, Bekah.”

Rebekah’s eyes narrow, “Will my brother walk down here when you leave? Or will he still be stuck as an animal?”

“I assume the latter. But it’s not as if there’s a handbook for how this whole situation is going to work.”

“Ah. So, you haven’t _accepted_ him.”

There’s an accusing edge there and Caroline straightens, more than willing to defend herself. “We’ve had _two_ conversations.”

“Long ones,” Rebekah points out. “And, historically, plenty of people have tied themselves together with less.”

Caroline takes a deep breath before answering, tells herself that Rebekah means well. She’s concerned about her brother and isn’t family loyalty admirable?

“I don’t care what’s been done historically. I’m not going to decide the rest of my life…” Caroline trails off, an unsteady laugh spilling from her. “And it’s not even _just_ the rest of my life, is it? It’s more than that. It’s centuries. It’s _ending_ my life. Everything I’ve ever known. Possibly having my parent’s hate me and never want anything to do with me, ever again. Tell me, Rebekah, how do you like being a vampire? Would you choose it?”

Caroline awards herself a mental point, not that it means anything. It’s just satisfying for Rebekah to be the one to look away. For her to shift her weight and be uncomfortable. Caroline presses harder, “All for a guy you’ve had _two_ conversations with?”

“I suppose,” Rebekah says, kinder now even though it’s obvious conceding kills her, “you have a small point.”

“Gee, thanks. And thanks for breakfast.”

The kitchen has a set of sliding glass doors, overlooking a huge stretch of grass that spill into the forest. It’s not ideal, will probably extend her walk home significantly.

Caroline doesn’t mind. She’ll take the quick exit, and the extra time to think.

* * *

The house smells fantastic, of fresh bread and roasting meat and the faintest hint of sweetness. They don’t always celebrate the more commercial holidays, but the chef Elijah had compelled to make dinner certainly seems to know what he’s doing. Klaus has been dozing most of the day, occasionally tuning into the movies Kol’s got playing.

He’s roused by a foot in the ribs. He rolls over to glare at Kol, finds the action a waste as his brother’s busy tapping away at the screen of his phone. “Caroline’s coming over. Go collect some clothes. She’ll be here any minute.”

Perhaps there’s something to be said for the season as the warning is uncommonly generous.

Klaus doesn’t question the gift, races up to his room. He leaves the door ajar and enters his closet. It’s well stocked, despite his usual lack of use for clothing and he finds he’s not sure what to choose. Dinner will be formal, he’s sure, as all of Elijah’s affairs are. He doesn’t want to make Caroline feel self-conscious though, has no idea what she’ll have chosen to wear.

He hears car tires crunch on gravel, knows it must be Caroline’s car rolling up the long drive.

Well. He’d best stop dithering.

He listens carefully as she enters the house, feels a pang of annoyance at Kol’s effusive greeting, the smacking kiss he presses to some part of Caroline’s person.

He won’t retaliate, in the spirit of returning Kol’s earlier favor.

Klaus is surprised to hear Caroline mounting the stairs instead of being led into the living room, is thrilled when her closeness activates his change, barely feels the pain of his body shifting. He grabs a pair of jeans and yanks them on hastily, has tugged a sweater over his head when he hears the door shut with a quiet click.

His brows climb and his intrigue grows when the lock slides into place.

He leaves the closet and finds Caroline standing in the center of the room. She’s already kicked off her shoes and he needn’t have worried about making her feel underdressed. She’s dressed in red, velvet that makes his palms itch, snug to her body with a neckline draped just off her shoulders, showing off delicate collarbones and a fluttering pulse.

She’s beautiful and nervous and Klaus can’t wait to find out why.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” he begins. “Though I’m pleased I was wrong.”

Caroline smiles. Her lips are bare of artificial color or gloss but the lower one is fuller than normal, as if it’s recently been bitten. “Coming here for break was kind of last minute. My mother had already agreed to work the evening shift. Rebekah stopped by yesterday with a gift, invited me to dinner. My mom insisted I come.”

He’ll have to buy his sister something pretty.

Caroline shifts her weight, her toes digging into the rug. “Bet you’re wondering why I’m in your bedroom and not downstairs. Where dinner will be.”

“I don’t mind,” Klaus tells her and it’s the truest thing he’s ever said. “But give me just one second.”

There are several bundles of spelled sage placed discretely about his room. He wants whatever Caroline’s about to say to be just for him.

He lights them quickly and Caroline’s nose wrinkles a bit at the first one. “It’s for…”

“Privacy, I know.”

When he’s done, he approaches her but Klaus doesn’t reach out, though he wants to more than anything. Caroline breathes out, and it’s shaky. “I don’t know how to… ugh, what was the phrase… ‘accept you into my heart’ or whatever.”

Klaus inclines his head in understanding, “I expect it’s not a conscious thing.”

“I don’t know enough about you. But you’re so old so I don’t know if I’ll _ever_ know enough about you. I don’t know if I’d be any good at being a vampire. It’s supposed to amplify who you are, right? Maybe the _more_ version of Caroline Forbes is too pushy and too bossy and completely unable to know when to shut up. Plenty of people find the current me _really_ annoying.”

“I don’t” Klaus says immediately, stepping closed because he can’t not. Caroline reaches for him, just as helpless to it. He presses their palms together, laces their fingers. He’s plenty strong, has iron self control. But ignoring the pull between them is growing harder by the second. “I think that you’re brilliant. And powerful. That you’ll accomplish great things.”

Caroline sighs, her head rolling forward to rest on his shoulder. “It’s really hard for me to resist you when you say such perfect things.”

Klaus laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear, stroking the shell of it delicately just to feel her shudder. “Tell me what you _do_ know, Caroline.”

“I like talking to you. I felt safe, sleeping beside you.”

He hums in pleasure, squeezing her hand in encouragement, his other pressed to her back. “What else?”

“You’re doing a great job of worming your way into my heart. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Pleased to hear it.”

She inhales sharply, reaches behind her and grasps his hand. Caroline glances up, eyes dark and heated. She directs him to the side of her dress. Klaus feels the teeth of a zipper, even as she leans up to set her lips to his throat, “I know I want you.”

She presses a kiss to his skin and Klaus is lost, groaning as he twists to capture her mouth. She whimpers when he licks into her, her body rubbing against his in the same rhythm as her tongue. She’s in his bed with a few swift movements, breathless and reaching for him when he steps back to capture the memory. Her blonde curls are tousled and her skin’s beginning to flush a pretty pink. Klaus leans forward, grips the edge of the mattress tight enough to tear it. “Be sure, Caroline.”

“I’m sure. I’ve been sure for days. I’ll show you my notes if you want, they’re in my purse.”

Even if he were a better man, he couldn’t argue with her. Not when she’s sitting up on her elbows, attempting to shimmy her dress down her arms.

Klaus makes a chiding noise, sets his knee on the bed and looms over her. He watches her carefully as he grips her wrists, pressing her arms to the bed above her head. “Slow down,” he urges her, settling between her legs.

Caroline’s body rolls up into him, her thighs climbing his sides. He can feel the heat of her, through the few layers they wear and savors her moan when he returns the grinding of her hips. “I’ve been thinking about this,” she confesses, her voice hushed. “I don’t want slow.”

He’s loathe to deny her anything but there will be time for fast and rough and hungry. He sets his lips to hers, kisses her softly, until she’s clinging to him, her eyes fluttering shut. “Perhaps I can convince you to change your mind,” he murmurs.

When she peels her lashes open her lips curve into a smirk, “Somehow, I think you’ll manage.”

He smiles down at her, until she laughs, body relaxing into the mattress. He skims his lips down her throat, lingering when he finds a spot that has her toes digging into her thigh. He licks it experimentally, then scrapes it with his teeth, pulling the loveliest little whine from her. 

Her chest arches up, breasts pushing into the wall of his chest. Klaus discards his shirt, so quickly she blinks up at him in confusion. “Neat trick,” she says, far less sarcastically this time.

“I have more,” he tells her, and it’s a promise. He gets a hand under her back and flips them, Caroline shrieks in surprise and grasps him tightly to him and the sensation is better than he’s imagined, the rich velvet of her dress rubbing against where he’s bare, her warm skin _so_ tempting. She looks a little bewildered to find herself in his lap and Klaus kisses her forehead affectionately. “I’m guessing you don’t want me to rip this dress?” he asks, toying with the zipper once more.

“Nope, I had to fight Elena Gilbert for it. Wouldn’t have thought red and mildly slutty is her style but hey, we all change.”

“I object to mildly slutty,” Klaus murmurs, tasting her bare shoulder.

She gasps theatrically, squirming against him. The pressure feels good, for her too, judging by the way her head falls back, her thighs widening. Still, she manages an admirable amount of composure. “Are you calling me _really_ slutty? Rude.”

One of his arms clamps around her hips, stilling her, and he tsks, “Don’t think I don’t realize you’re trying to rush me.”

Caroline pouts, rising higher, setting her hands against his shoulders. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. Now, will you help me out of my dress?”

He’s excruciatingly slow about it, listening for each individual tooth to release as he draws the zipper down. Caroline’s got her forehead pressed to his, her breath speeding up, too stubborn to make another demand. She’s gone without a bra and Klaus pushes the dress to her waist, skimming the soft skin of her ribcage as he bends to his mouth to her breasts.

Her nipples are pulled into a tight peaks, flushed a deep rose against her fair skin. Caroline’s breath catches when he sucks on one. She moans when he cups her free breast in his hand and rolls one nipple, applying his teeth delicately to the other.

He doesn’t try to stop the rocking of her hips as he plays with her, helps her even, until she’s gasping, and the muscles of her thighs are gripping his hips tightly. He sinks his hand into the back of her dress, under the scrap of an undergarment she’s wearing until his fingertips can tease her dripping entrance. She whimpers, biting down on his shoulder, and Klaus hisses in pleasure.

He can’t wait until she has fangs.

He eases a finger inside of her but the angle is not ideal and Caroline shakes her head, “Please,” she gasps, her voice thick with need. “Klaus, I’m so…”

She’s painfully close, he can feel it in how she trembles. He flips them again, yanks her dress down. She hadn’t said anything about her knickers and if she’s displeased they’re destroyed she doesn’t say. Klaus kisses her again, until she’s panting into his mouth, then slides down the bed, hooking her thigh over his shoulder and spreading her with his thumbs.

She’s got a hand in his hair, is writhing against him. Klaus doesn’t try to hold her down, not even when she yells and thrashes when he sucks on her clit. She comes with a few flicks of his tongue, babbling his name sweetly.

He turns his head to mouth the length of her thigh while she comes down, stroking the tense muscles soothingly. When she stops shaking he takes a slower taste, sweeping his tongue through her folds. Caroline’s next moan is a question, her head lifting to look down the length of her body at him. “I want you to come again. For me.” He runs his thumb over her clit, exposing more of it for the point of his tongue.

Her voice is wrecked when she tries to speak, “What about you?”

Klaus slips a finger inside her, feels her slick walls flutter and squeeze, “I’m enjoying myself thoroughly,” he assures her. He adds another finger, explores until he finds the spot that makes her hips jerk sharply and a choked gasp spill out. He strokes it, watches in satisfaction as she reaches up to grip his headboard, as she shamelessly rides his fingers, lost in what he’s making her feel.

He promises her it’s just the beginning but he’s certain she doesn’t hear.

No matter. Showing her will be far more fun.

* * *

“I think we missed dinner,” Caroline says. She’s not mad about it – how can she be when she’s currently enjoying Klaus’ massive bathtub. He’s just behind her, having thoroughly washed her pliant and sated body, his chin tucked over her shoulder.

“We’ll run down for leftovers later.”

Caroline bends her knee, intending to plant her foot on the bottom of the tub to help her shift. She winces at the tug to her sore muscles. Klaus notices, and eases her higher against his chest. Her reaches down, his hand wrapping around her thigh. “Alright?” he asks, his thumb stroking along her skin, high enough to make her forget any lingering aches.

“It’s a good pain,” she tells him. “But I don’t think I’ll be doing much running. Even for food.”

The joke lands badly, Klaus touch turning gentle. Like she’s suddenly made of glass. “I don’t think we have any painkillers in the house. We can run out…”

“It’s Christmas,” she reminds him. “In a really small town. Nothing will be open.”

“We could…”

“My mother’s the sheriff. A B &E just means more work for her.” Caroline can’t see his face, but she’d bet he’s beginning to sport whatever an immortal hybrid’s version of a pout is. He’s barely touching her now and that just won’t do.

Rebekah, bless her, had phrased the dinner invite as including a sleepover and Caroline plans for there to be more sex.

She’s already had a greater number of orgasms in a single evening than she’d thought possible. Might as well try for a record.

She’s got to go back to school in a few days. Klaus can email apparently, some kind of giant keyboard they’d special ordered, but she’s not sure if that will be enough.

She’s never felt like she does now – a churning mix of contentment and excitement. She wonders if it’s just adrenaline, if she’d get the same rush if she tries bungee jumping or skydiving but she doubts it. Klaus is part of the equation, his eagerness to know her, his delight in her words and acceptance of her whims. She’s never felt like someone sees her the way that he does and it’s an incredible high.

Thinking about leaving hurts so she hasn’t been doing it.

Caroline grabs his wrist, her thumbnail digging into the underside. Klaus goes still behind her and Caroline feels a giddy thrill at having shocked him.

“Would you mind?” she asks, hoping she’s not breaking vampire taboo. “I’ve never… but I know your blood heals.”

A couple weeks ago the very idea would have revolted her. Now, disgust is the last thing she feels.

His voice is rough, like it had been when he’d been inside her, his voice in her ear whispering praise. “I don’t mind.”

He pulls away, and she hears the bite, smells the metallic tang of his blood. He offers her his wrist, dripping ruby red, and Caroline takes it gently. She licks first, experimentally, finds the taste far from what she’d expected.

It’s not the least bit unpleasant, rich and bitter like a really fancy chocolate. The first mouthful goes down easy and Klaus’ strangled groan, his cock thickening between her thighs, encourages Caroline to take another.

He heals quickly and Caroline pulls back, licks her lips. “I… liked it,” she says, unable to help the wonder that colors her tone.

“Fuck,” Klaus grits out, standing and lifting her out of the bathtub. He sets her down in front of the double sinks. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he rasps and Caroline nods in assent.

She almost doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror.

She’d piled up her hair before they’d gotten in the bath, wispy curls frame her face. That’s the only familiar aspect of her appearance. Her pupils are blown, her eyes barely blue anymore. There’s blood smeared over her mouth, stray drops dotting her throat and breasts.

Klaus is pressed tight to her back, his big hands squeezing her hips. He’s watching her in the mirror too, reverent instead of curious. His cock is pressed against the base of her spine and Caroline’s arousal, idle in the bath, flares hot again. She startles when she notices his eyes are gold, that his teeth are viciously pointed.

There’s no fear, not even when she searches for it.

When her eyes catch his, Klaus splays his hands across her stomach. One glides up, the other down, and Caroline’s head tips back, watching him intently. “You’re incredible,” Klaus rasps. “Far more than I deserve. I’m not a selfless man, Caroline.”

His hand smears the blood, the red stark against her skin, and his hand cradles her jaw, urging her head to turn. He licks his blood off her lips, breath ragged. Caroline’s thighs tremble when he strokes her clit, but she knows he’s got her, that he won’t let her fall. “Do you want me again? Here? While you watch? You’re so lovely when you come for me.”

She nods, nips at his lips, knows no articulate words will form.

“Hands on the marble then.”

Caroline grins in anticipation, shifting her weight and spreading her thighs further apart. Her head falls forward when his fingers slip inside her and she grinds against his palm, rubbing against the heel. “Greedy,” he murmurs, and the warmth in his tone lets her know it’s in no way a reprimand. 

She shoots him a challenging look in the mirror, lifting a hand to tug at her nipple. The gold in his eyes seems to glow for a moment. “Next time, I want to watch you,” he tells her. “Would you like that, love? In the daylight, I think. Spread out in my bed, your lovely pale skin against my sheets. Showing me _exactly_ how you like to be touched.”

“I’ve liked how _you_ touch me just fine.” 

He grins, pleased. “I’m sure there’s room for improvement.”

The tip of him nudges at her entrance, slides against her slickness, the motion meant to tease. Caroline whines, arches of her hips, urging him to sink inside. “Do you want me again, Caroline? You’re not too sore? I can use my mouth again.”

As good as that had been, Caroline wants more. “Later,” she tells him. She braces herself and bends forward, and Klaus sinks inside, groaning harshly.

The angle is freaking magic and her hands grasp uselessly into the smooth surface in front of her. Klaus’ thrusts are slow, he glides out and then back in, his hands curled around her waist to ensure he doesn’t jostle her into the countertop. He’s also stopping her from moving much, has her pinned, so all she can do is feel and take.

“Watch,” he reminds her softly, lips pressed to the nape of her neck. Caroline nods mindlessly, focuses on his hands on her skin. They flex with his every moment, fingers twitching, and she knows he’s holding back.

Kind of hates it, but she gets it.

He won’t always have to.

Klaus chooses that moment to touch her clit again, two of his fingers rubbing firm circles. Caroline’s eyes widen, the revelation that she’s already decided something big swallowed by the sensations he’s pulling from her. The feelings build, and layer, his hands everywhere. As her body tenses she reaches behind, digs her nails into his skin until he moans her name.

She comes with a shout, trembling in Klaus’ arms.

Later, she finds herself in Klaus bed again, after, warm because she’s half buried under him. He strokes her hair as she drowses, tells her about an apartment he has in Paris. The reminiscing, apparently inspired by the antique three way mirror he says it contains, lulls her into a doze.

When she wakes up, and they head downstairs to raid the fridge, she’s still sure. It still feels right.

Caroline Forbes is going to be a vampire.

* * *

“Looks like mom’s not home yet” Caroline lets the as the car rolls to a stop, cutting the engine, before turning to look at him. “I’d invite you in, but…” she lifts a hand, her eyes apologetic.

She’s not the owner of the house, not even a full time resident. She won’t be able to issue invitations. “It’s no matter. I’ll walk you to the door.”

He’s out of the car, at the driver’s side, before she has the chance to reply. When he opens the door and offers her a hand, she’s giggling. She offers no resistance when he pulls her to her feet, helpfully wrapping her arms around his neck so they’re pressed together. “Wow,” she drawls teasingly. “That’s awfully old fashioned of you. Especially considering all the filthy things you did to me last night.”

“And this morning,” Klaus reminds her, deservedly, in his opinion, smug about it.

His initial goal – convincing Caroline to stay the day – had sadly failed. She’s got breakfast plans with her mother and so he’d offered her first crack at his shower, had opened his door to find the overnight bag she’d packed in the hallway. A note had been neatly folded on top of it, a stern reminder, in Elijah’s hand, to put some sage in the bathroom.

He’d disposed of the note before Caroline could see it. He won’t have her feeling any shame in what they’ve shared.

He’d left the bag in the bathroom, had been disappointed when she’d emerged fully dressed, though he of course recognized her strategy.

She’d rolled her eyes a little when he’d offered to drive her home, but she hadn’t said no. Hadn’t let him drive either, teasing him that she couldn’t trust him behind the wheel of a car considering he hadn’t even _been_ in one in more than a decade.

He’d had his revenge, of course. Settling his hand on her leg, plucking at the seam of her jeans absently, higher and higher, until she’d been shifting restlessly in her seat, so pretty with pink staining her cheeks in the morning sunlight.

For the first time in ages his hands had itched for his art implements, colored pencils or pastels, so he’d have a chance of capture the moment quickly enough.

He’d made a note to suggest they go into town in the next few days, see what the shops have to offer. There must be somewhere he can pick up art supplies, something basic until he can order some online. He hasn’t gotten Caroline a gift either and that just won’t do.

Caroline draws away from him, reluctantly, Klaus is gratified to notice. Her grabs his hand towing him along with her. The porch steps squeak, their boots crunching over the dusting of snow that covers them.

Klaus doesn’t notice anything amiss and it will _haunt_ him.

“I’ll see you later?” Caroline says, just before her lips press against his cheek.

“Come over whenever you like.” He’s hoping the good sheriff is _very_ tired after her shift, that Caroline won’t be able to resist slipping back over to his place once she’d gone to sleep.

He’s never been an optimist but, perhaps, Caroline will be a good influence.

“Will do,” she chirps, stepping away.

Klaus leans against the porch rail as Caroline struggles with her keys. The door sticks and she sighs, shoves it roughly with her shoulder. “Ugh, will she ever this fixed?” Caroline gripes, turning to look at him to share her exasperation.

He’s pushing off to help when it gives and Caroline stumbles forward, over the threshold.

“Well, that was graceful,” she jokes.

He’s smiling when she starts to scream.

The sound is cut off brutally and Caroline chokes, clawing at the manicured hand that’s wrapped around her throat. Klaus surges forward, only to slam into the magical barrier that’s meant to keep a vampire out. Its purpose is to _protect_ humans.

Oh, he’s never cursed the lack of nuance more.

Caroline’s off balance, her feet slipping as she struggles. She’s taller but Katherine is stronger, keeping Caroline pressed to her chest. Katherine has a knife in her other hand. Small but gleaming, obviously wickedly sharp. She uses it to wave, her smile vicious. “I’d say it’s nice to see you, Klaus, but you’re not worth the lie.”

“Katerina,” he says evenly, “Think about this.” He’s less controlled than he’s ever been, has his fists clenched tightly at his side, every cell in his body screaming for her head to roll. His rage boils hotter because he can’t do anything, not now.

He’s had countless chances to rid the world of Katherine Pierce, had preferred toying with her, letting her paranoia build and her resentment fester.

He’d been stupid, egotistical.

Now Caroline will pay that price.

Her eyes are glassy and pleading, her lips turning blue. The motions of her legs grow weaker. Her nails are bloody but he’d not sure if it’s because she’s torn them or because she’s managed to rip into Katherine’s skin.

He can’t help her. Not with her on the other side of the door. His next offer is desperate, but he _means_ it. Klaus steps forward, until he can feel the magic. Katherine flinches, her hand tightening on the knife. “If you walk away, right now, you’re free.”

Katherine’s head falls back, her laugh loud and mocking. “Oh please. Do you think you have the tiniest shred of credibility? That I’d ever trust you? This one must be _great_ in bed because you are off your game.”

He doesn’t get a chance to beg because Katherine draws the knife across Caroline’s throat, letting her fall to the ground. Caroline lands on her knees with a harsh thump, her hands clutching uselessly at the cut on her throat, already spilling so much blood.

Too much blood.

She coughs, and it’s wet, more blood spraying across Klaus’ shoes.

She tries to shuffle forward but Katherine, damn her, yanks her back by her hair. “Nice try, Cupcake,” she spits.

Klaus spares Katherine one last glance. “You’ll die for this. I promise.”

He can feel his spine cracking, the vertebrae realigning. It doesn’t notice the pain, can’t feel anything when he knows his shift means that Caroline’s fading.

He hears Katherine’s reply, a victorious singsong, “Not if you die first.” Then he spots the stake she’s come prepared with. Klaus growls, half a wolf, incensed that Katherine’s suspected Caroline might have vampire blood in her system, that she’d come prepared. If she’d run, as is her habit, he could have stayed with Caroline.

Klaus _can’t_ stay.

He’ll have to leave to save her.

* * *

Her life doesn’t flash before her eyes.

There are no angels singing, she doesn’t feel beckoned by a warm, bright light. Her high school principal doesn’t show up, park on a subway bench, and offer her a choice.

Maybe that’s for easier deaths.

For people who are ready.

Caroline’s not. Her life has changed drastically in the last few months. For the better. When she’d woken up this morning, all she’d known is possibility. She’d had choices. Hard ones, and she’d known she’d disappoint people who loved her.

She’d also known it would be worth it.

She hopes her mother isn't the one to find her body.

Klaus is here, but he’s too far away, the anguish on his face hurts more than the hand around her throat. It’s like she can feel it. The acidic heat of fear in her gut, dread cloaking her, heavy and cold. Helplessness and confusion because he’s never had no options, never truly _lost_ a game.

Is she imagining it? Or can she hear him? He’s telling her that everything will be alright.

Oh.

The blood.

His blood.

Maybe it will be alright?

If she can get out of this house.

He’s gripping the door frame, so close. She’s surprised it’s not dust under his hand.

She doesn’t see the knife.

The pain is fleeting, chased away by the heat. It flows over her hands, and she knows she can’t stop the bleeding.

It’s not in her not to _try_.

She falls, tries again.

Klaus is only a few inches away. If even her _pinky_ crosses the threshold…

He'll take her away. She'll turn. _Live_.

Her field of vision narrows, grows spotty. Her hair’s yanked, painfully, and she has no more strength.

Klaus is still here.

Until he’s not.

* * *

The front door has a motion sensor, Klaus doesn’t bother to wait for it to admit him, he barrels through, leaving splinters and shattered glass in his wake. His shoulder tears open, blood soaking his fur but he doesn’t care.

Doesn’t notice.

He knows he has hours. That Caroline’s safe until she wakes, that she can’t be killed, _permanently_ killed, until she draws breath again.

He finds no comfort in logic. Not when she’s alone, with Katherine Pierce, who’d happily kill thousands of people if she thought it might cause Klaus a hint of irritation.

How had she known? How is she _here_?

He’ll find out later.

Klaus takes off in the direction of the first noise he hears, sprints up the stairs, faster than he’s ever moved, even on open terrain.

Kol’s door doesn’t fare any better than the front door had. Kol’s startled awake, makes to fly from the bed but Klaus’ momentum is to great and he leaps, shoving his brother back down.

Kol grunts, pained, and Klaus doesn’t have time for any petty griping. He shoves his head against Kol’s throat, gathers every ounce of concentration he can muster, and pushes his way into Kol’s head, throws the image of Caroline, throat bloodied, trying to crawl out of her house.

Kol goes still, horrified, strengthens the connection between their minds. He’s not as finessed as Elijah is but he gets the job done, shoving Klaus away and rolling from the bed. “Go,” he demands, “I’ll get Bekah.” His motions are quick and he grabs his phone, shoving his feet into a pair of shoes.

“We’ll get to Caroline’s, we’ll get her out.”

Klaus hasn’t moved, poised on the bed. His paralysis is equal parts relief and fear.

What if he’s too late?

“She’ll have blood in her system,” Kol says, the words a rapid babble. Klaus isn’t sure which of them he’s trying to assure. “Bekah slips it into her smoothies every morning. I spike our movie night wine. I think Elijah’s paid off every barista on campus and Caroline drinks far too much coffee.”

Klaus still can’t move.

“It’s been a few days but still. It should be there. She’ll be fine.”

Kol takes his lack of action badly, a strangled noise of disgust torn from his throat. “Do you honestly think I’m going to screw this up? Do you think I hate you _that_ much? That I want Caroline to die, alone, at _Katherine Pierce’s_ mercy?”

He _doesn’t_ think Kol will screw this up. He’s never trusted Kol with more than the most minor of tasks. Kol had always performed them badly, out of spite. It had been a vicious circle but Klaus wants it to end.

He needs it to.

He has no way to _say_ any of that and so he leaves, just as quickly as he’d entered.

Back to Caroline.

* * *

She can’t open her eyes. She’s trying but they’re so heavy. She can’t speak either, her mouth not obeying her brain’s commands. A hand taps her cheek and her brows wrinkle in annoyance. Something wet nudges at her neck and she hears a rumble. “Okay, okay.” A male voice mutters. It sounds faraway, even though Caroline knows it isn’t. “I was just checking, no need to get testy.”

A quieter voice murmurs something Caroline doesn’t catch, and then it’s blessedly silent.

She _hurts_. Her head, her neck. Her entire body.

Her memory returns in pieces. Klaus, looking pale and stricken and murderous, on his knees as a pool of blood seeped towards him. Klaus, in the passenger seat of her car, drawing in the frost the cold night had left on the windows. Elena Gilbert, knife in hand, lurking in her mother’s front hall.

Oh wait. _Not_ Elena.

She inhales painfully, finally managing to pry her eyes open. She’s in Klaus’ bed again, tucked under the covers. Not alone, though.

She should probably be alarmed to find the rest of the bed occupied by a wolf, large enough that he takes up two thirds of the mattress, and it’s a huge bed. Caroline worms her hand out from under the covers, absently noting that she’s wearing the shirt Klaus had been yesterday. Her muscles are shaky, and her hand ends up flopping over Klaus’ eyes, but he doesn’t seem to mind, pressing closer.

“Hi,” she manages, her throat scratchy.

He makes a noise she’d call a snuffle and Caroline lets her hand drift over what she can reach of him, digging into the thick fur at the back of his neck. “You’re a wolf so I guess I’m dead, huh?”

He makes another noise, sharp and pained and Caroline tries to make her touch soothing. “It’s okay, I’m okay. How’s my mom? Did Katherine…”

Klaus jerks, moving from side to side. Caroline sinks into the pillows in relief. “Good, that’s good.” She needs more information, though some of it she can guess. Her mother would have had no qualms about letting Elena Gilbert into her house. It would have been easy enough for her – Katherine – to get close enough to snatch away the vervain necklace her mother always wore.

Klaus will have to fill in the rest.

Caroline grunts in pain, twisting gingerly to glance at the nightstands. There’s a fancy crystal goblet on the one closest, filled to the brim with a deep red liquid.

She tries a joke, “I guess that blood is for me?”

Klaus nudges her, his nose cold, and Caroline can feel the rebuke. “I’m hilarious and you know it,” she mutters, easing herself up painfully. It’s a slow process and, she shuffles and shifts by inches until she can reach for the glass. It’s heavy, requiring both her unsteady hands. “A sippy cup might have been more practical.”

She drinks it all, under Klaus’ anxious gaze, barely managing to set the goblet down when she’s done.

Her strength returns gradually. Her breathing eases, her skin beginning to tingle. The sound of Klaus’ shift is louder and crisper than it ever had been before, every creak and crunch making her wince in sympathy.

She makes a noise of protest when he rolls off the bed, but he’s only gone long enough to slide under the covers. His arm wraps around her, pulling her into him. She catches the “I’m sorry,” he speaks, muffled though is as he presses his mouth to her throat. He repeats it, a litany of apologies as he traces the cut that had been there. She holds him just as tightly, her hands skimming over his body. His bare skin comforts her, assures her that he’s whole.

That she’s with him, and not dreaming.

She threads her hands into Klaus hair. Doesn’t tell him that it’s okay because it’s not. It’s also not his fault. “Where is she?” Caroline asks, once Klaus has quieted, and she’s got her head resting against his chest, his steady heartbeat reverberating under her ear.

“Katherine fled out the back door as soon as Rebekah crossed the threshold. She hadn’t been watching closely enough to realize that Bekah had gotten an invitation. Kol's the only one who chased her, lost her when she got on the highway." 

“Will you find her for me?” Caroline asks, her head lifting slightly. She’s not really the forgive and forget type.

He’d promised Katherine death. Caroline intends to deliver it.

“It shouldn’t take more than a few days,” Klaus assures her, his hand gliding up and down her back soothingly. “Elijah tracking her and he’s… motivated.”

Caroline nods, satisfied, stretches out her legs. Her body feels different, not in a bad way, and she’s looking forward to testing it out. She hauls herself up a bit, so she can look at Klaus more comfortably. “Do you think it’s too late to get my money back for next semester?”

He studies her for a long moment, appearing mystified. “I doubt it,” he says slowly. “Even if some deadline has passed there are ways to be… persuasive.”

Caroline sits up, her legs falling to either side of Klaus’ body. She takes one of his hands in hers, exploring his palm, then his forearm, like it’s the first time she’s ever touched him. Would she have been able to notice the little details, with her human senses? The roughness of callouses, the bristle of the hair. She runs her lips over the thin skin on the underside of his wrist, feels the pulse of blood in his veins. 

His eyes turn gold.

“I figure,” she begins conversationally, “that I probably shouldn’t be cooped up at school right now. A lot of people annoy me and, if I’m going to convince my parents that being a vampire is a valid life choice I need to not eat the frat bros who think ‘you have a great ass’ is the pinnacle of complimentary statements.”

Klaus shakes underneath her, amusement softening his features. “I can see how such boys might make you feel peckish.”

“I’m still going to want to get a degree,” she warns him. He’d been a smidge too obvious with his glowing travelogues. He’ll probably try to cajole her into Paris or Spain or who knows where once they’ve officially broken his curse, but she’ll have to stay firm.

Breaks are a thing; Klaus can plan something within them.

“I’ll probably have to change my major but I’ll think on that.” Broadcast journalism, her face splashed all over the place, is _way_ out.

“You’re remarkably calm about this,” Klaus notes. He doesn’t stop touching her but his grip grows lighter, tentative. A little furrow of worry appears on his forehead and Caroline reaches to smooth it.

“I’d already decided I’d be a vampire.” She’d been saving the revelation, had had some vague plans brewing for a grand, romantic gesture. Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered, because she can’t imagine Klaus hadn’t been torturing himself while she’d been gone.

He’s been so careful to let her choose.

He’s gone still beneath her, a touch of strain in the sharpness of his jaw. “And when did you decide this?”

“Last night. Figured I was _way_ too into the taste of your blood so…”

She yelps when he surges up and tumbles her back, doesn’t struggle when he pins her hand. “Caroline. Be serious. Please.”

“I didn’t decide. Not really. I just… knew. That I’m meant to be this.”

“You’ll be a magnificent vampire.”

“I hadn’t meant for it to be this soon. Figured I’d graduate college first. Thought it might be nice to live eternity without regularly getting carded.”

“You’ll find that happening less often once we leave the US.”

“Which we’re not doing until I graduate college.”

Klaus rears back, ready to argue. While she anticipates that happening often, and being quite fun, it’s not what she wants right now. “For a long stretch of time,” she amends.

Mollified, Klaus nods. “I can work with those terms.”

“It might take some time. We’re not sure if you can leave Mystic Falls yet. You might have to woo me properly.”

The gleam in his eyes lets Caroline know he’s about to make some terrible innuendo. Possibly an unforgivable pun. She leans up, kisses him, to save them both the indignity.

Hopefully his siblings have vacated the premises. She’s not letting Klaus up to light the sage.

They’ll have to find another solution. Seek out a witch who can work something more permanent, or one who’s willing to invent a way to do so. For a hefty payment, of course.

Caroline’s so not willing to put up with Kol being pervy at the breakfast table, even if he'd been a key part in saving her.

* * *

Caroline hums around a mouthful of bobby pins, her head twisting from side to side as she arranges her hair. She’s got a picture taped to the mirror, printed from the internet, a woman from the 20’s, long hair tucked under to mimic the bobs of the time.

Rebekah’s gone all out for New Year’s Eve. Klaus has promised to uncompel Stefan, and so Rebekah hopes to remind him of what they once had. Klaus is nearly certain she’ll be unsuccessful, that Stefan, as he is now, could never be happy with a vampire. Not when he’s so uncomfortable in his own skin, so afraid of losing control.

He’s got to let her make her own mistakes.

Caroline’s curls are proving difficult to tame and he can tell she’s growing frustrated. Klaus pulls the pins from her mouth, smiling indulgently when she glares at him. “You _can_ leave it loose.”

“It won’t match my outfit!”

Klaus had ordered a dress pulled out of storage for her, shipped to Mystic Falls in a rush. A seamstress had been happy to make the alterations (for the hefty sum Klaus had promised) and Caroline’s in love with the white beaded number, how it fits to her body and flares out when she dances. She’s equally enthralled with the ropes of pearls Klaus had gifted her, a late Christmas present.

She’s become a bit obsessed with doing the ensemble justice, had furiously searched and planned her accessories in painstaking detail.

Klaus isn’t going to complain about the silk stockings or the garters, hopes to convince Caroline to leave them on – along with the pearls – later tonight once the guests have left.

Perhaps before the guests have left, if she decides the party’s too much for her. She’s a natural vampire, has settled into her new strength and speed. She’s confessed that she’s worried about being overwhelmed by a crowd.

Klaus has promised to keep an eye on her, had pointed out that he physically can’t be too far away from her, less he terrorizes the invited guests when he turns into a wolf. He’s certain she’ll be fine.

Caroline has admirable control, can stop herself from taking too much blood from a human but she only allows herself a few mouthfuls. He’s sure she counts, a precise seven seconds, even though Caroline won’t admit it.

They’ll work on it.

While he’s _wooing_ her.

They’d tested his curse the day after Caroline had turned. Out in the backyard, his family watching from the deck. They’d walked in opposite directions and Klaus had shifted once Caroline had gotten too far away.

He thinks Caroline had been more disappointed than he’d been. She’d muttered an apology later, when they’d been alone, but he’d tugged on one of her curls, had playfully asked if she wanted to place bets on how long it would take. She’d feigned outrage – _‘Klaus, this is serious, you’ve already been stuck here for like eleven years’_ – but he knows she has money in the pool Kol’s started.

“There were plenty of women who wore their hair long, Caroline. I promise you.”

She squints at him, wondering if he’s placating her. Apparently decides that his vow not to lie to her extends to silly things too. She sets the pins down, turns to face him. “Kiss me before I put my lipstick on.”

Klaus is more than willing to go along with that demand, but he stops, the implications of her statement slow to sink in. “Does that mean I can’t kiss you after?”

“Nope. Not until midnight.”

“Superstitious, love?”

She pokes his side, “Not really, but I’m not willing to take _any_ chances.”

Klaus can see her point given the events of the last few days.

He spins her, dipping her dramatically, drops a playful kiss to her sternum where her robe’s slipped open. She’s flushed when he pulls her back up, trying not to smile. “You’ve been paying attention to those rom coms I’ve been making you watch, haven’t you?”

He maintains that her obsession with the Hallmark channel is unhealthy.

“No, it just occurred to me that your rule has a loophole. I intend to exploit it. He brushes his lips over her cheekbone, dips his head to press a hotter, more lingering kiss to the soft curve of her shoulder.

She sighs, her aggravation entirely an act. “Of course, you’re going to play dirty.”

Klaus lifts her onto the counter, slips his hand up her thighs. She’s already wearing the stockings and he toys with the straps holding them up. Her hand cradles his jaw, drawing his mouth to hers.

They’re fashionably late to the party, the first they attend together.

Caroline vows it’ll never happen again, and every time they get ready to attend one, Klaus makes it his mission to thwart all her attempts at punctuality.

They keep a tally, the number growing as the years, decades, _centuries_ pass. Sometimes Klaus wins, just as often, he loses. He never minds either way.

The battle, in this case, is its own reward.


End file.
